


Theory of Motivational Learning

by YellowBlue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption II
Genre: Dark Dutch, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Spit As Lube, Violence, Whump, and with dark I mean really dark, mention on fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBlue/pseuds/YellowBlue
Summary: Dutch makes sure that his golden boy learns a lesson in obedience after John messes up once again.“You still haven't learned your place, boy. Maybe this is my fault. Maybe I should've been harder to you. Let's see if we can't rectify this mistake now.”-------------------------READ THE TAGS, PLEASE!





	Theory of Motivational Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Again: Mind the tags! This is definitely not everyone's cup of tea.

Dutch wasn't a man who forgave others easily. They had all seen how Dutch killed men and women alike in cold blood after Annabelle was killed. They had seen him torture an old and half blind man to death for information about Colm O'Driscoll. And they had seen him burn down a house without batting an eye even though the shrill screams of the people inside could be still heard for miles.

John had always hoped that he would never be the victim of Dutch's wrath. He had run out of luck.

John's knees hit the hard stone floor with a sickening cracking sound, followed by a grunt of pain from the young outlaw. He didn't dare to get up, not with Dutch standing right behind him, his own gun belt dangling from the older man's hand and his lip already bleeding from the punch he had received just seconds earlier.

“You've been a bad boy, Johnny.” Dutch's rumbling voice was low and dangerous. He dropped John's gun belt, uncaring where it landed, and circled the young man who was still kneeling on the dirty floor of the small warehouse that was functioning as their hideout for the heist they had planned for days.

John knew he had messed up. He hadn't thought any of it when he had left his guarding post to check what was in the small shack next to the pawn shop they were robbing that night. The shots and shouts that he could hear half a minute later had taken him as much by surprise as the other gang members inside the shop.

Dutch had been livid with rage when he had spotted the young gunslinger storming out of the shack with a shocked look on his face and his gun not even out of his holster. The heist had been a disaster that ended with Arthur and Javier in jail and Bill out of commission as he would be busy nursing the gunshot wound to his right shoulder over the coming weeks.

“You still haven't learned your place, boy. You haven't learned what it means to run with _my_ gang!” Dutch dragged the young man up by his shirt as he spoke and shoved him towards a couple of weathered looking crates that were standing in the corner of the warehouse. “Maybe this is my fault,” he continued. “Maybe I should've been harder to you. Let's see if we can't rectify this mistake now.”

John was already waiting for the next punch or kick, anything that would dampen the other man's current rage. He knew how to deal with this kind of pain. A part of him even thought he deserved this kind of pain for getting his friends and brothers in arms almost killed. The hits and blows never came.

Instead, Dutch stood there in silence, a thunderous look on his face, staring at John as if he wasn't entirely sure yet what he was supposed to do with him. He came to a decision when he saw the dark brown eyes of the younger man flicker to the exit or the warehouse.

“Strip,” he commanded all of a sudden, watching John blink in confusion.

A raised eyebrow and a growled 'Now!' was all it took to get John moving. He opened his pants, vest and shirt after kicking off his boots. The confused look hadn't left his face, but he didn't dare to ask Dutch what this was about when he put his clothes on a pile next to him. The warehouse's stale, cool air hit his naked skin and John shivered slightly, he was trying not to think about his current state when he faced the other man again.

“Turn around.” Dutch pointing with his finger towards the wall behind the young outlaw as he spoke, his eyes roaming over his naked form.

John hesitated, there was something in Dutch's voice and in his eyes that made his stomach clench in fear. This wasn't the normal punishment Dutch usually handed out when one of them had made a mistake. This was something else and he was sure that he wouldn't like what was about to come.

A hard slap to his cheek that made his ears ring. John could feel the throbbing sting where the gold rings had connected with his cheekbone. The bruises would probably be visible for days if not weeks.

“I said, turn around. Do as I say!” Dutch never raised his voice, but there was a scathing harshness to it that made John wish he would be in jail with Arthur or Javier.

John followed the other mans order and turned around slowly. His wide eyes stared at the brick wall that was now in front of him when Dutch approached him, pressing closer until John could feel the rough scratch of his pants on his naked ass and the cold metal of his belt buckle on his lower back.

“You disobeyed my orders, John.” The dark and biting murmur against his year made him flinch and sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. John could feel his heart thunder inside his chest and he was almost sure that Dutch could hear the steady and fast _thump thump thump_ too, given how close he was standing behind him.

“You endangered my men,” Dutch continued to speak. “It's your fault that two of them are in jail and one of them almost died. And all for what, John? To prove that you are better than the rest of us?” He hissed the last words into John's ear.

The strong hand that landed on his shoulder almost made John jump. He stumbled over the words when he tried to explain himself to the other man: “I really didn't, Dutch, I didn't want them to b--” Two fingers were forced into his mouth, making him gag when they pushed in deep and pressed down on his tongue. He didn't dare to bite down.

“Shut up!” Dutch snarled as he took hold of John's neck with a bruising grip. “For once you will shut your mouth and do as I say!” He held him in place as pulled his fingers out of John's mouth and pressed a leg between the naked thighs of the younger, making him widen his stance. The moment he could feel John go still under his touch, motionless like a terrified and shocked deer,  
he pressed the moist digits against his entrance, teasing the small opening and feeling it clench under his fingertips.

"No, Dutch, please don't! Don't do that!" John pleaded, frozen to the spot and unwilling to believe that this was really happening, because this was Dutch. This was his mentor and friend and the person that came closest to being like a father to him. This was not something Dutch did.

Dutch didn't care about the panic in his voice as he slowly pressed his fingers into the young man. John bit is lip and groaned in discomfort, clawing at the crate in front of him and trying to stay still when he felt the grinding drag of Dutch's digits against his dry inner walls.

“Do you think you deserve my forgiveness just like that after what you've done?” He added a third finger, making John hiss in pain. There was not enough lubrication to make the sensation in any way pleasurable for him. “Because I don't think so.” Dutch's fingers pushed in deeper, wringing a high keening noise out of the young outlaw. “I really don't think you deserve more that what you already get.”

"I'm sorry, Dutch, please," John begged, his voice cracking. He couldn't get his arms to stop shaking and they gave out under him when he felt fingertips pressed hard against the sensitive spot inside him, making his whole body twitch with the almost painful sensation.

Dutch didn't reply. He kicked John's legs further apart and spit. The thick glob of saliva felt uncomfortable on his skin as it slid slowly down the crack of his ass, but John was almost thankful for the prospect of having something that would ease the slide of those unrelenting fingers inside him.

"You forgot something important, boy,” Dutch drawled as he gathered up the sticky drops of saliva before pushing his fingers back into John. "I own you, John, your soul, your body and your heart. And you will do as I say!"

John didn't know what to say. He didn't know anymore if the other man was right or wrong.

His head swam and by the time Dutch worked a fourth finger into him, he could only hold his breath and stare at the wall in front of him through blurry eyes. It was too much. It wasn't going to fit. John screamed when Dutch suddenly pushed forward, forcing his fingers deeper inside him.

"I should put my whole hand into you. Make you my glove puppet, my toy,” Dutch growled darkly against his ear, testing the tight clench around his fingers as held them deep inside the younger man's body. His other hand was holding onto John's waist, leaving red finger-shaped bruises on his skin. "I should teach you how to obey and how to bend to my will. Goddamnit, John, I should put a bullet into your head for what you've done!" He yanked John back by his waist, spreading his fingers inside him and watching the red, stretched out rim quiver with the strain.

"No, please." John sounded pathetic. Another hard jab against his prostate had his knees buckle under him and he could only hold on to the old crate to prevent his fall.

“Now, John, I want you to tell me something.” Dutch's voice sounded strained, like he was holding himself back. “Will you be a good son from now on? Will you do as I say?”

“I will, I promise I'll be good, just … ,“ babbled John frantically before his words ended in a shuddering groan.

Dutch's demeanor changed from one second to the next. The hand that had clutched his hip was now caressing his back and the movement of the fingers inside him became slow and careful. John uttered a confuse grunt when he felt warm lips kiss his shoulder and neck. If his sore ass wouldn't be screaming at him in pain he would have thought the last twenty minutes had been nothing but a figment of his imagination.

“I knew you would understand me. My clever boy.” The older outlaw said in a voice that sounded so much like the usual Dutch that it made John sob in relief. The hand on his back wandered over his waist to his belly as the older man leaned closer again, nuzzling against the back of his head.

“You're so special to me, so precious,” Dutch purred, letting his hand wander lower and wrapping his fingers around the half-hard dick that was twitching in his hand when the older man started to stroke him. It was only now that John could feel the unwanted arousal that was coursing through his body. A spike of sharp pleasure went through him when Dutch let the pads of his finger stroke over his prostate in a circling motion before pressing in deep again, making John moan and his toes curl.

“Dutch?” John asked in a trembling and breathy groan and he could feel himself thrust into the hand that was still wrapped around his cock. The slide of Dutch's hand on his dick was getting smooth and slick with his pre-cum. It was getting impossible for him to ignore the hot and heavy feeling inside his belly that was pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Don't worry, son. Just let go.” Dutch answered, still in that warm and comforting voice that had made John always feel safe and appreciated and the young outlaw knew that it wasn't supposed to be like this, that they weren't supposed to do this, but he couldn't stop himself from baring his neck when he felt Dutch kiss the spot directly below his ear.

The high, hysterical voice in the back of John's head that was screaming in anguished desperation and furious indignation. He ignored it. This was fine, this was better than the pain he had felt before and the terrible wrath in Dutch's dark eyes. It meant Dutch was willing to forgive him and that he got another chance. He wanted Dutch's forgiveness. He wanted to be good for Dutch.

“Please, Dutch, just … please!” It was all John could manage between hitching breaths and wet gasps and he wasn't even sure what he was begging for anymore when he heard the older man coo honeyed words in a low voice and felt the slippery fingers tighten around his hard length.

His orgasm was ripped out of him when he felt Dutch's thump stroke over his rim as the fingers inside him dragged over his sweet spot again. John didn't hear the choked off, hitching whine he made when he came, the rush of blood in his ears muted everything else and he was only vaguely aware of Dutch pulling his fingers out of him.

There was blood under and around his broken fingernails, John realized with a start as watched his hands shake uncontrollable while catching his breath. He was half sitting, half-kneeling on the dirty stone floor, leaning against the crate and avoiding Dutch's eyes that were watching him intently as he wiped his fingers on a handkerchief and threw it into a dusty corner when he was done.

Dutch crouched down next to him. The kind and caring look that John had seen on Dutch's face so many times before and that he had known from the first day he and Hosea had saved him from the gallows was still there when he spoke: “That wasn't so hard, was it? I'm very proud of you, son.” John didn't know if he any kind of reaction expected from him. The smile on Dutch's lips vanished and was replaced by the cold hard look from earlier. “You will follow my orders from now on, understood?”

John nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor. A hand grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to look at Dutch and making him wince when he felt a couple of strands coming lose.

“I asked you a question, boy.” Dutch growled between his teeth. “Will you follow my orders?”

John swallowed around the burning dryness in his throat, forcing himself to stare into the brown eyes of the older man. “I will follow your orders, Dutch,” he replied, his voice tight and brittle.

Dutch's eyes lingered on him, taking in the bitten lips, the bruised cheek and red, teary eyes that glowered at him with confusion and contempt. John could see his mouth slowly twist into a cruel and wicked grin. It made him shudder in fear and disdain and he didn't want to know what the older man must be seeing and thinking when he looked at him.

“I don't like the defiant look in your eyes. I think we'll need to work on that later.” Dutch stated as he let go of his dirty, dark locks. “Get dressed. We need to get Arthur and Javier out of jail.” He patted the cheek of the young outlaw in a mock-affectionate way that had John fight back a snarl.

With a dark and hungry look in his eyes Dutch watched as the younger gathered his clothes and got dressed again. He left the warehouse without saying another word, there was no need to say anything else, the young outlaw had already learned his lesson.

John took a deep, shaky breath before he followed the other man. He knew what he had to do. They had to save Arthur and Javier and he needed to make sure he didn't botch up this job as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Another writer's block and once more John has to suffer for it. Sorry for making Dutch into a crazy bastard. 
> 
> Comments of any kind are welcome! Even if it's just for pointing out mistakes or to let me know how I can improve my writing.


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